


make the same mistakes you did (just to get closer to you)

by newsagogo



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: California (Comics)
Genre: Battery City, Better Living Industries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:54:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29006397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsagogo/pseuds/newsagogo
Summary: Children in Battery City are just as watched as the rest of the Citizens. They see things a little differently.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	make the same mistakes you did (just to get closer to you)

**Author's Note:**

> so like maybe tw for paranoia? but yknow im thinking abt those replacement things  
> anyways  
> titles off Never Get Used To by Seinabo Sey

Children should be seen and not heard. Don’t speak out of turn.

These are the rules of growing up in the city. Right now, you are young and one of dozens in your age group living in this particular apartment building. Unlike some, your particular flat is on one of the top floors. Sometimes, between the scheduled blocks of homework and hobbies, you like to peer out at the skyline and wonder how many other children do the same. Your mother knows this habit, knows it interrupts the recommended day structure given by the education board. She says nothing, but she makes sure your bedroom door is a little more closed over. After all, if she doesn't see you misbehaving she can't discipline you, right?

You are a quiet child - in the City, that just means you are the same as any other child. You never speak to any adults unless prompted, take care in keeping the whites and pale greys of your uniform stainless. You can fade into crowds of your peers. This, you understand, is safety.

A bad child means a guilty parent.

Any and all conversations can be reported. Any bad feelings against Better Living should be given to the appropriate authorities. They will be dealt with.

Your behaviour represents your family. Don't draw too much attention to yourself - but don't fade away too easily! Those who won't be missed, _well_. They aren't missed.

Everyone dreads detentions. Not that nobody gets them, children do misbehave after all. But more than two per week? That gets your file flagged. That gets you a home inspection. That gets the blame on your parents.

The Exterminators protect the City, and your teachers make sure this lesson is learned and learned well. If they come to your door? That don't mean nothi- 

That doesn't mean anything bad. It simply means that you may not be living in a way that benefits the City _best_. 

Your mother often double locks the doors, you see her making the windows difficult to see into by piling whatever recent houseplant she's brought onto the window sill. You never tell your teachers. Adults don't get detention anyways. They get re-education. When you hear her whisper in low tones to people in the living room after your bedtime (outside of visitation hours) you pull your blanket up over your head and sleep.

Children grow up - with or without parents

Everyone is replaceable. Adults more so than children.

"If you aren't doing anything wrong, why _shouldn't_ I look through it dearie?"

The Thing that replaced your mother uses her voice to speak to you. Its mouth moves in a hollow imitation of her smile, the teeth it shows just this side of perfect and utterly unnerving. You hand over your laptop, try to ignore the pit in your stomach that tells you the mathematics work on the screen has your deepest secrets.

It doesn't know all her habits. It makes sure your bedroom door is always wide-open, removes the lock claiming that "There's never been any need for secrets, and isn't this my apartment?" with eyes that blink too regularly to be human. It takes consistently even steps around what was once a shared home. You don't look out the window no m-

You no longer look out of the window.

It does care for you, you suppose. You try to avoid calling it "mother" too much, but not so much it gets suspicious. It cleans and it checks up on you (and _checks_ on you) and it cooks (but always exactly as a recipe states. Never improvising like your mom did.) and really it does look after you. 

But it's not your mum. And you don't know where she is. 

You wish she'd come back.

You wish they'd taken you too.

You keep your head down, these days. When the thing in your home hugs you you pretend you can't feel the humming of electricity. When it kisses you goodnight you pretend you can feel the hardness of plastic under it's synthetic skin.

If you are a model citizen (but not too perfect) they might watch you less. If they watch you less you can relax. You can plan. You can find her, do what she did but _better_.

Maybe, one day, you can leave.

Your guardian is typing away in the other room. You hope there's nothing to report.

**Author's Note:**

> anyways i did this instead of reading some sources so ill go do that now


End file.
